


How many spiders does it take to kill a horseman?

by ChantiLee10



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Could Be Canon, Explanations, Fanfiction, Gap Filler, Illustrations, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChantiLee10/pseuds/ChantiLee10
Summary: "How long has it been since the last time all thirteen of us got together?" Nobunaga asked."Three years and two months," said Feitan. "But the members are a little different."- Hunter × Hunter manga, chapter 71.Three years and two months prior to the heist at the York New City auction, all thirteen Spiders reunited under Chrollo's command for a huge mission. Challenging Kega Oro, the most influential of the Ten Dons, was the Head's idea to garantee them a place between the world's most infamous criminals. Little did the Legs know that, amidst the luxury of Oro's estate, they would find past trouble originated from the grimy Meteor City. Expect new faces, polished original abilities and captivating battles. All that in an origin story for the Phantom Troupe—with special attention to Chrollo's past—written as to not break the canon of the series.
Kudos: 5





	1. Introducing × new × characters

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, it's ChantiLee!
> 
> I tried my best not break the canon of the series by any means and believe I did a really good job. However, I might as well comment on two decisions of mine that some readers might consider as 'breaking the canon'. Firstly, I created a never-before-seen ability for a canon Troupe member (read the fanfiction to discover which one). I did it purely for the purpose of making the fight with them more enjoyable and satisfying because the canon regarding their Hatsu is scarce. No need to stress over it, though. I forced myself to create it in such a way that makes the fact that they don't use it again in the series complete reasonable.
> 
> Secondly, I named an unnamed Hatsu of a canon character. I don't even know if the Hatsu is even considered an ability to be honest, but, when I thought of the name "Extinction Comet," I decided it was rad, fitting, and most importantly, added a lot of flavor to the scene.
> 
> In addition, I would like to point out that I intentionally wrote poor English when quoting Feitan.
> 
> That's all, people. Please, enjoy!

Meet the original characters most relevant to the plot. I am not a professional artist, and this is literally my second or third time ever doing digital art. So please be kind. 

[](https://ibb.co/hVX06Yt)


	2. At × the × hideout

Unsurprisingly, Uvogin arrived first at the hideout. The others followed little by little. It went without saying that the boss had big plans for that night; after all, it had been two years since he last summoned the whole Troupe.

Dawn light struggled to permeate tangled wiring and fallen beams to even faintly illuminate the room. In fact, the brightest glow there came from a candle whose flickering, rather than help, could only distract someone from their read. Nevertheless, Chrollo was at it. Only until the last members arrived, that is. In the middle of a long yawn, Phinks sighted Chrollo closing his book, getting up from the cold concrete and the fire of the candle extinguishing.

“It’s time for the Spider to come out of the shadows,” said the boss, stepping from a shaded spot into a shaft of sunlight that broke through the holes on the ceiling. “Tonight, we’ll establish a genuine reputation for ourselves. One so defiant, it’ll demolish their pillars built on obedience; so severe, it’ll shatter their concept of stability; so menacing, it’ll force them into doubting their own complexes of hegemony.”

“Wow, talk about romanticizing the mafia…” Nobuko said. This comment caught Machi’s attention.

“Indeed, I’m referring to the mafia.” Nobuko looked at Nobunaga, with whom she was sharing a pack of pocky, tilted her head and raised her hands in a pleasing act of ‘I told you so’. Chrollo continued, “More precisely, Kega Oro, the most influential of the Ten Dons. His pegasus racing business is the most integral stake to his highly profitable illegal schemes because it serves as a money laundry. Everything, from the real bets to the corruption, is operated from his private châteaux complex in the countryside of Ascott.” He moved on to explain how the law required all gambling houses to hold an amount of cash equal in value to all receipts printed to the players. “This sum of money is locked in the château’s vault. We’ll be the ones to rob it.”

“How you sure mafia playing by the rules?” Feitan asked.

The boss returned to his seat, taking a usual position―his legs were spread considerably wide apart, while his knees each bent to a perfect ninety degrees angle; his back hunched forward, and his elbows pressed his thighs in a way that spiked his shoulder blades. “I believe you’re missing the point, Feitan. This time, the money’ll be but a means. The true purpose of this mission is the aftermath it’ll have on the Ten Dons.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear!” Uvogin yelled, finishing with a wicked, pumped smirk.

Franklin said, “Still, if there’s little money secured in the vault, this mission won’t have as much reverberation as you’d like, boss.”

Chrollo admitted that Franklin was more than correct. It seemed, however, that the feds were also aware of the mafia scheme underlying the sky-racing business, although they lacked concrete proof. Therefore, they made sure to maintain a keen eye for any legal infringement regarding the gambling. Having noticed the answer persuaded everyone, Chrollo gave the floor to Shalnark and Drive.

Throughout the room, Drive projected a hologram of the château from his mechanical arm to illustrate Shalnark’s exposition. The latter raised one of his index fingers to begin. “Alright, the three of us did some research yesterday. We can separate Oro’s estate in four parts, the buildings being: a château complex which comprises everything concerning the sky-racing―that is, the track, the cashiers, the offices, and of course the vault―; the stalls, where the pegasi pretty much live while they aren’t racing; and Oro’s personal manor. The fourth part is the private botanical garden, the largest in the world, which connects all other three. When I say large, I mean the size of city-center parks.

“Our first obstacle will be breaking into the château’s cage, the ‘authorized personnel only’ area if you will. Once inside, well… It’s basically a giant maze. We couldn’t find the way to the elevator that descends to the vault and even if we had, we’d still need to activate it by means of fingerprint identification _and_ vocal confirmation from the levels both above and below. Since I won’t be able to manipulate the guards down there, taking control of the entire security system from the server room is our only realistic chance of getting a ride.”

“Listen carefully,” said Chrollo. “Once we reach the underground, I expressly forbid you from storming the safe. I want it to look intact, meaning we’ll need to find whatever keycard opens it.”

“Why, though? Why do you want us to leave the vault untouched?” Machi said.

“I’ll need it for my plan against Oro.”

“So this is a personal vendetta…”

Chrollo did not agree nor disagree with Machi’s guess. He himself probably could not pinpoint if the mission was pure revenge, or if there was something else to his actions. Truly, at that time, he could not. At that time. “The real matter is: we’ll make Oro choose between his fortune and his family. His daughter I want killed―to show him what we’re capable of. As for his wife, we’ll take her hostage.”

After a brief silence, Drive turned off the hologram, and Shalnark ended his explanations. “This about sums it up. Does anyone have any questions?”

“Actually, I do,” said Phinks. “Did you consider the possibility of digging a hole to the vault?”

“I’ve never heard a more _boring_ plan in my entire life!” immediately reacted Uvogin.

“What the―? You… I’m trying to be pragmatic! That’s all.”

“Ahahaha!” Shalnark brightly laughed. “It certainly would be more tedious, Uvo! To answer Phink’s question: yes, we did. The biggest problem is the three-dimensional vibration mechanism that covers the whole lot and activates the police. Given it is operated by a third party, it will be difficult to jam in comparison to the server room.”

“Actually, we should turn our heads above, rather than below,” said Nobuko. She took the opportunity to say that Oro’s daughter would celebrate her wedding that day. “At noon, his luxury airship will be hovering over his estate at Ascott while hosting a sky-gala.” Machi seemed attentive to Nobuko once again.

Promptly, Drive did the maths. “Lemme search something," he said, bringing his right hand to his head and fingering his temple. "So, considering the records of bet by those in Oro’s network that are assiduous gamblers, I estimate this racks up the cash in the vault from seven billion to thirteen billion Jenny.” Someone's whistle echoed in the background. “Unfortunately, this also means the security will be heavier, at least on the airship.”

“Unfortunately?” said Uvogin.

Whilst the focus was on Drive’s estimate, Machi approached Shalnark in private to ask if Nobuko was aware of the plan prior to the reunion. But Shalnark only reminded her that the Head never revealed the plan ahead of time to anyone, except to the two Legs assigned to accompany him. Machi looked askance at Nobuko and advised Shalnark to be vigilant, for both acknowledged that the punk showed signs of knowing about the subject, one way or another.

The boss stood up with both hands in the large pockets of his coat. “Tonight, we’ll claim an independent place in the world,” he said. The Spider’s prey was soon to be caught in its deadly web.


	3. The × mission × begins

“Jump now!” Four tiny figures pierced through the whiteness of the clouds, diving in the direction of a massive airship. Nobuko promptly deployed **Demonic Ink: Seigaiha** to cushion the imminent impact. Using her threads, Machi binded Nobuko, Pakunoda and herself to Feitan, who, out of the stress from the free fall, conjured a heavy variety of **Pain Packer** as soon as they landed on their target. Feitan dragged the others with vigorous steps against the blowing wind until they reached a hatch which they used to get inside the airship.

They found themselves in a public restricted area. While Machi, Pakunoda and Feitan changed into the spare gala couture they had brought with them, Nobuko kept her every-day, comfortable athletic-punk outfit, which intentionally revealed all her intimidating tattoos. A group of security personnel turned the corner. In the blink of an eye, their headless bodies were already piled up on the floor: it was Feitan.

“Can you not spill blood on your tuxedo?” said Pakunoda.

“Doesn’t matter. Here!” Feitan tossed her a device. “Holographic plant of airship one of them had in pocket.”

Following the plant, they made their way to the ballroom. The luxury, though―most certainly not from Oro’s sky-jockeying business. The golden palette was kind of blinding, to say the least, even to Nobuko, who was once accustomed to it. Each piece of tapestry, each crystal chandelier seemed to be able to sparkle on their own. Not to mention the opulence from the dresses to the servants’ attire. If the Spiders cared much for that genre of material acquisition, they would definitely be all-over the menu’s finest and most exotic delicacies that crossed their view on polished silver trays.

Nobuko released her #8 spider tattoo as a living being with **Demonic Ink: Spider** and ordered it to scout the airship. Her abilities revolved around manipulating any art that she had tattooed on her body ―as long as she honestly liked it . Most of them manifested themselves as creatures. The exception was Nobuko’s **Demonic Ink: Seigaiha** , which formed a malleable stream of tiny seigaiha-styled wave pattern units that were extremely sharp.

Pakunoda approached a bodyguard across the parlor and said, “Pardon me good sir, but I reckon there is a, shall we say, _unwanted_ guest at the party.” Before she knew it, Nobuko was surrounded by three buff bodyguards, one of which had Pakunoda clinging to his arms.

“Excuse me, madam, but I’ll need to check your invitation,” said one of them.

“Are you trying to embarrass me? Is it my outfit or my tattoo? Before you go around judging others, take a look at your own cheap suit,” the punk said, nodding her head once in his direction to signal disapproval.

“Please, madam, the other guests are uncomfortable about the situation, so if you could just cooperate…”

“The other guests? _I_ should be the one uncomfortable here. You ignorant brats might not know who Nobuko Inagawa is, but Oro does. In fact, I’ll ask him to do me a favor and fire you three right now. Where is he?” Without wasting time, Pakunoda let go of the bodyguard and blended back into the crowd.

“Madam, I’m sure neither of us want to―,” Nobuko interrupted the bodyguard with a sip of champagne to the face.

Needless to say the buff guys ‘invited’ her to withdraw herself from the ballroom. At the security office, apart from the same three bodyguards, there was the chief of security. Coming from behind his desk, the latter began explaining what measures would be taken if Nobuko did not show them an official invitation. As soon as he got close enough, Nobuko, in turn, ‘invited’ him to withdraw his nose to the desk. That hurt. The others drew their pistols. Quicker than they could aim at her, **Demonic Ink:** **Seigaiha** mutilated their guns and fingers. She sprinted to one of them and drop kicked him in the stomach―the **Ko** was more than enough to lacerate his guts. With the bounce, she did two cartwheels backwards until she hit a second bodyguard; his face kissed the ground hard, really hard. Three down. For the last one a special treat: pierced in the back by her tattoos while trying to open the door fingerless.

“ **Demonic Ink: Tiger** ,” the Bengal tigress tattoo from Nobuko’s right leg came to life. “Eat them up, princess. Mommy doesn’t want to see any leftovers.” The Nen-beast feasted.

She messed up the desk searching for another holographic map. Files, reports, pin-ups… Inside the drawer, she found more paperwork, but also, _Game receipts?_ , she thought.

Wednesday’s special

Your horses of choice:

Race 1) Scratch, the quick gallop.

Race 2) … 

…

Race 5) Perseus, the sky-blue marvel.

_Forget it…_

Outside the office, Nobuko did not even need to look at Feitan to know that he was leaning on the wall. She told, as Feitan entered the office, that the security chief would be only half-conscious if he was unlucky.

Sat at the hall, far from any ballroom, only the ticking of her rose gold Hajime Asaoka was discernible to her. A sheer burn struck her guts every time any old men appeared to go to the toilet that was at the end of the corridor. She was not in the mood to talk to _that_ old man; in reality, she never was since she left home. But she knew he could be at that party. And each second was a new chance for them to meet.

Disrupting the agonizing symphony of the clockwork, her phone started ringing: it was Machi on the other side of the line. “Oh! Nobuko, I can’t reach Uvogin and Nobunaga, so I need you to deliver them a message…”

“Alright… Uh huh…”

As soon as the call ended, Feitan opened the door. “Come on. Daughter is by wedding cake, snapping pictures with guests. Then, we go after wife,” he said.

The tigress came through the door too, swallowing the rest of what looked like an arm. “Good girl! You can go now,” said Nobuko, turning the tigress back into ink and into a tattoo. “Don’t worry, I saw this wedding cake though the eyes of my spider. I can take us there.”

There it was, the pristine white five-foot-tall cake; the bride and the groom were right beside it. People crammed all four corners of the room. Feitan and Nobuko hid within the mass. Despite the bumping, they got close. Feitan had his umbrella at hand. They got closer. The part of the blade near the handle was already visible; Feitan’s eye-smile too. Just some steps between them and the shooting session.

 _Get it together, man! It’s just faintly―you’d have to be really well trained to notice it―but you’re oozing your bloodlust even at_ **_Zetsu_** , Nobuko thought.

They approached the tail of the crowd. Feitan raced to the bride. Prior to the flash, her body was one whole piece; following the flash, that was not the case anymore.

Obviously, this was enough to wreak havoc at the scene. Screams everywhere, but, amidst all the chaos, the two members heard, “Nobuko, what are you doing here?” The old man that was taking a picture with the couple caught their attention.

 _I was trying really hard to get through this wedding without seeing you_ , she thought.

Before both had time to further react to him, a tall soldier entered the room and filled it with their violent aura. “Feitan, my friend, I’d recognise your thirst for killing from a mile away.”

Feitan confronted the aura with his own **Ren** and warned Nobuko, “Gunther!? Seems this ‘bout to get real.”


	4. Enter × the × Matrix

The public gambling area of the château came down to a wide, yet delicate fountain, rectangular in shape, around which there was a typical grandstand with multiple levels. As for the grandstand itself, it consisted of the limit to only three sides of said rectangle; rather, the fourth side was limited by a wall of the château’s main building―where the cage was. Beacon-like structures with small rotor blades stayed practically stationary above the central pool at multiple heights, defining the track for the sky-jockeys to race. 

Shalnark, Franklin and Drive rose to the last level of the grandstand, exclusive to the few who had afforded the luxury of private cabins to enjoy the races. They broke into one. The young couple inside fancied binoculars and designer animal prints. Both had their tattooed skin exposed.

Drive held his mechanical palm open in front of himself. It was an unusual sight: a guy with his hair slicked backwards and in a grey handyman overall in the middle of an expensive-looking room. “ **High Amperage** ,” he said and discharged an electric current so intense it carbonized the bodies, turning them into two ash piles.

Shalnark bent down near the ashes. With a bewildered expression, pinching his chin, he said, “Interesting. I thought flesh wasn’t a good conductor.”

“It really isn’t. My conducting aura guided the current through the air and into their bodies,” said Drive. In fact, he did not create electricity out of aura; he transmuted it to have superconducting properties in order to control the flow of the electric charges stored in an inner component of his mechanical arm.

“Ingenious!” Shalnark stood up. “But you shouldn’t be exposing your abilities to anyone, Drive. I’m sure you can handle yourself, but you could bump into someone with just the perfect counter.”

“And what would that counter be? Do you really believe someone would base their abilities on the physical properties of insulators, like rubber and gum!? What about styrofoam? Shush, already, will you?” 

“Enough, you two,” Franklin intervened in the discussion on his way to the open porch. He popped out the caps of his fingers and strafed the racing pegasi and jockeys. The spectators did not understand why the racers began pouring from the sky and plunging into the fountain pool because the bullets were invisible to them. Nonetheless, the gore created mayhem across the entire grandstand. They would take advantage of that distraction to enter the main edifice of the château.

Before leaving, Shalnark noticed a folded card on top of the end table. It read

Reserved

Mr. & Ms. Inagawa.

_Inagawa? Nobuko Inagawa?_ he thought to himself. Intrigued, he took the cell phone that the couple had left by the card―not that they would need it anymore.

There was a bodyguard the size of Franklin passing by when they exited the cabin. Quick-witted as always, Franklin knocked out the guy and disguised himself with his uniform. They also took his ID card that opened the door to the cage prior to rushing to that level’s entrance. “Alright, if anybody’s got a plan to find the server room, better share it now, or we’ll be lost in the labyrinth ahead,” said Drive.

Shalnark responded confidently, “Watch this.” They opened the door to the infinite corridors of the main building and came face to face with a bodyguard. Franklin prepared a punch, but Shalnark quickly held him. “Wait! Don’t you see the antenna? I stuck it in her in advance when we were outside.” There really was an antenna on the nape of her neck. “Show us the way to the servers, buddy.”

Arriving at the server room, Drive deactivated the digital look with his ability **Malware Attack** for them to get inside. The hardware in the server room was cutting-edge technology, but nothing that Drive could not ultimately hack. Once again, he used **Malware Attack** , falling to his knees this time. A sudden blue screen took over his sight. In a moment’s time, he morphed with the principal server and gained control over the IoT network of the entire château: he could create paths of least resistance for the servers’ current to flow, altering its processing at will with his superconducting aura. However, the capability of nearly light-speed thinking came with a cost. He himself saw through the camera system―whose eyes were henceforth his―his petrified body, completely vulnerable, in the middle of the server room. Drive sent to Shalnark’s phone the whereabouts of both the elevator and the team responsible for raiding the vault.

Meanwhile, Franklin was safeguarding the door outside. Catching a security camera out of the corner of his eyes, he pointed a finger at it. Bzzzt! The camera was down.

“Hey, boss, you should see this,” said a guard at the CCTV control room. 

“Is it really that important? I’m dealing with the attack to the grandstand now.”

“Well, we lost a camera. Here, I’ll replay the last footage for you… See? One of our men points at the camera, then it blows up.”

 _Franklin?_ thought the superior. To make more sense of what he had just seen, the man asked the guard to play the footage once again. For some reason, however, this time they could not.

“Boss, the cameras have stopped recording,” said another guard, “and we’ve lost all stored footage!”

“How’s that? The TVs are showing the images from the cameras!” the boss argued.

“Yes, but they are not storing the data. Looks like the central processing unit is rejecting it all.”

The boss called for a woman, “Tzede, I think this is the Spiders’ doing. Please, go pay them a visit at the server room.”

“Yes, boss. By the way, has anyone answered Oro’s call?” she asked.

“Mot’s on his way to the airship. His ability, his responsibility.”

The boss and the guard stayed to look for other suspicious activity. They eventually found it: _The ducklings always follow the mom duck…_ The boss made the guard jump from his chair when he slammed the table. “I’m coming for you in person, Chrollo.”


	5. Bringers × of × apocalypse

A bodyguard called Oro to the side of a salon. “Sir, we had an incident at salon number four. A woman by the name of Nobuko Inagawa was found without an invitation, but don’t worry: our men have already taken her to the office.”

“The daughter of the Inagawa Clan? I thought she had gone missing! Does Kakuji want to get in trouble again? I only sent him one invitation. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. Just make sure she doesn’t cause me more trouble.”

As Oro distanced himself from the bodyguard, Machi sneaked near the magnate to knock him and render him nauseated, momentarily unconscious. Before he fell, she wrapped his limbs with her aura in a way that she could control their movements. Pushing and pulling the string, she directed him to a reserved study room; Pakunoda followed behind. Machi fastened Oro to an armchair as his reason and sight returned to normal.

“What the―? This is a death sentence to both of you. Do you even know who I― Aaaaargh!” Machi stabbed Oro’s hand with a knife which was hanging by the wall, along with other daggers, as ornaments. It stuck to the wood of the chair’s arm.

Pakunoda gently placed her hands over his shoulders and asked, “Where is the keycard required to unlock the vault?”

“It’s always money that they want― Aaaaargh!” Machi moved the dagger to inflict pain on him.

“Your voice is annoying me,” she said. 

Pakunoda explained the keycard was a biological token. To be opened, the lock required DNA from Perseus, his most prized pegasus. Machi tried calling Uvogin and Nobunaga, who were in charge of destroying the stalls, but was unable to. “We’d better ask Nobuko to deliver the message,” suggested Machi.

“Inagawa is involved in this too?” Oro said.

Eager, Machi asked, “How do you know Nobuko?”

Oro aimed at her feet and miserably ended up spitting on fine carpet covered most of the lustrous wooden floor. “Like I owe you any explanation. You'ill pay for what you're doing!”

“You are not in a position to talk like that―” said Machi, twitching the dagger again. “Oh! Nobuko, I can’t reach Uvogin and Nobunaga…”

“Oh, I am really not in the position?” murmured Oro, as Machi chatted on the phone.

Two steps back and a widening of the eyes: that was how startled Pakunoda got with what she had seen amidst Oro’s thoughts. “Machi…”

“Paku?” Machi said puzzled. “Nobuko, I’ll call you back,” and ended the call.

“He’s got a contract with… They work for him, Machi… The Horsemen work for him as private hitmen. They were summoned the moment we captured him and should arrive at any time.”

“The Horsemen!? You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m calling the boss right now…”

In the middle of the call with Chrollo, a short, slender figure bearing a scythe opened the door. He wore a casual pair of jeans and a hoodie. The black and white gas mask that resembled a skull covered his face, while the hood partially obscured the mask. He swiftly swung his weapon at Machi―a close call. The man chased Machi across the walls again, and again, successively trying to impale the Troupe member; they were everywhere. Pakunoda took out both of her guns. As he swung his blade in a precise last attack, the man almost got Machi, but a bullet to the hand made him drop the blade.

When he tried to pick it up, Pakunoda sent a stream of shots in his direction, forcing him to distance himself from it and into the middle of the room. “Now,” said Pakunoda. Machi pulled her hands and triggered a trap made of Nen-threads. The man was captured and targeted by multiple flying knives and daggers. That was it for him… At least the Troupe members thought so. The dropped scythe flew across the room, not only deflecting all the sharp projectiles, but also cutting him free. 

The men appeared before Machi and cut her. Although it passed right through Machi, shining pale green as it did so, and left her body unharmed, she collapsed and dropped the phone. “Machi!” Pakunoda screamed. The man sprinted at her. Pakunoda’s payback: two more rounds of bullets. Unexpectedly, the man exploded, leaving her disoriented. And quicker than she could notice, a bright pale green turmoil opened behind her; the man resurfaced from it and slashed her in much the same way he had done to Machi. Her body hit the ground.

Frightened, Oro had his eye closed for the entirety of the fight. Noticing that the stomping had ceased, he peeked from one eye. “Phew! Maniacs…” The magnate got up from the chair since the threads had vanished. “By the way, Mot, shoot them, will you? I know you swinged that blade at them, but I can’t see any blood, and I want to make sure I don’t see their faces ever again.”

“I can’t do that,” said Mot.

Indeed, his scythe could only temporarily banish victims to a conjured Nen-space he called **Spirit World** , identical to the real world in a radius of three mile from him, except greener. He could traverse between worlds at will though his portals. While a victim was banished, their real, unconscious body turned indestructible, and they could only be damaged in the **Spirit World**. Because only people in the same world could interact, the catch was: banish one enemy at a time to eliminate them individually, for death in one world causes death in the other.

“But I could throw the bodies through the window,” Mot proposed.

Confused, Oro said, “Yeah, do that.” _That’ll kill ‘em too_ , he thought.

Mot then informed Oro of the incident that happened at the grandstand. The sound of cries from outside the study room lured them back to the nearest ballroom. Bodyguards were desperately looking for Oro. “Sir, sir, code red. We need to evacuate the airship now. Follow me…”

“Where are my wife and my daughter?”

“Sir, please, stay with us. The bride was murdered; I repeat: the bride was murdered.”

A sudden contraction of angst tightened his heart. A clenching sensation so suffocating that Oro actually was at loss of breath. His legs quivered as if the floor was trembling; it really kind of was due to the pressed march of the guests. “My daughter, who did this?” Mot helped Oro stay on his feet.

“The same woman from before and an unidentified black-haired short man, sir,” said one of the bodyguards.

“Inagawa!” Oro shouted, standing up firmly. “Where is this?”

“Sir, come with us, we need to―”

“Ignore the protocol! I said I want to see who’s responsible for this outrage against my family!”

“That would be salon number two, sir.”

Other bodyguards arrived at the ballroom with Oro’s wife. They hugged and kissed. “Honey, head home with them. I’ll go deal with this mess… Mot, you come with me.”


	6. The × tramp × incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I didn't make up the tramp incident. For further reading on this topic, consult Hunterpedia's page for "Meteor City."

Three children joyfully screamed and giggled. They ran for their lives, trying not to cut themselves on any rusty edges of the garbage, while a tall, bloody monster hunted them. A cardboard monster, that is, one of the many villains from the saga of those three paper bag masked heroes. The blood: red paint, the most recent of their lucky findings amidst the trash. 

The little boy signaled right to the other two children, who followed him around a huge pile of rubble. Having supposedly lost sight of the three, the monster halted and asked where they had gone in a spooky voice. Suddenly, the three landed on top of the monster, who carefully collapsed to the ground, admitting defeat and putting them down gently. Of course, the heroes made sure to boo the monster for his losing streak.

Blissfully skipping up and down, the blonde little girl tripped over a bottle and bruised her hands and her knees. “Don’t cry, Paku, or else Ms. Komacine will tell us to go back home,” said the black-haired kid. Unfortunately for their fun, the pain was too much for the blondie to endure in silence. As expected, Ms. Komacine appeared. She called the kids out, complaining that there was not a single day that they played without hurting themselves.

The monster removed his mask―a young boy some ten years older than the children. “Wait, Ms. Komacine, I’d like to speak with Chrollo,” he said. The woman allowed it, as always with the condition that it would be quick. So the two boys took out the mattress that they hid in the dump and jumped on it.

“Did you know Komacine is a surname, Chrollo?”

“I knew that.”

“Of course you did. But have you ever wondered why you don’t have a surname?”

“Not really. I mean… Paku doesn’t have one either, nor do you.”

“That’s right. I believe Machi’s unlucky for having a surname because, in some way or another, she has a reputation to look after, a family reputation. So I figured we, who have no surnames, can be considered the freest individuals.

“You see… The other day, the Elder showed me this book that he’d found at the dump. Not gonna lie, the cover was dull, but what I read from it was really food for thought. It was a collection of independent texts. This guy, the author of one of them, wrote that the human being’s condemned to be free. Funny, huh?”

Chrollo said he could bet the Elder always found the strangest of books. He even told about the time when the Elder asked him to deliver to the priest a tome adorned with a print of a shiny cross; on his way, he read in it the story of a star that had fallen from the sky and had swore to ascend back even higher, or something like that.

“So, we’re condemned to be free, right?” continued the older boy, “His first argument was that we’re thrown into this life, into this world, without being consulted first. That’s exactly how I feel. No one ever asked me if I wanted to be born and have this life. I don’t know where I come from; I don’t know my real family; I don’t know my surname; actually, I don’t know if Skandar is my real name, the name my parents intended to give me―if they ever intended to give me one, in the first place.

“Then, he argued that we are ultimately free to do whatever we want, only we are also responsible for everything we do. At first, I thought this meant we could do anything, but we should also be prepared to suffer the consequences of our actions. Oh, I was surprised to know that was not what the writer meant―and this is where I got the idea about not having a surname. Instead, he wanted to say that we are completely alone in the world. There is no power, entity, values, rules, commands, nothing that legitimizes our attitudes, no justification to nor excuse for them. It is exclusively up to us to give our lives a meaning, any meaning, in fact.”

“Wow,” Chrollo said.

“Amazing, right!? I said no one asked me if I wanted to be born…. Well, if I knew I was gonna end up here, I think I might have chosen not to, you know? Yet here I am existing. Now, if what the author said about existence preceding essence is true, I might as well start looking for my own essence, which I’m sure I won’t find here, amongst all this rubbish.”

“What are you trying to say with all that?” asked Chrollo.

“Alright, basically, I wanted you to be the first to know that I’m departing from Meteor City in an attempt to find a greater meaning for my life elsewhere.”

From a distance, they heard Ms. Komacine’s shouts reverberating between the trash piles and reminding them it was already dusk. Without forgetting to hide the mattress first, they left for the slums where they lived with Ms. Komacine, her family and Pakunoda. Skandar instructed Chrollo to concentrate his aura into his eyes like the Elder had taught them, so they would not trip over the irregular terrain of debris.

By the next week, Skandar had left with three of his closest fellows. Chrollo later found a message from his beloved brother:

_Dear Chrollo,_

_…_

_In light of everything I have just expressed to you in the present letter, I trust you to take my place henceforth and be of aid to Ms. Komacine with whatever matter her family might need. She is a lovely person whom I will miss dearly. In fact, I will miss you all dearly._

_Train hard with the Elder. When the time is right, I will come back for you, brother._

_Skandar._

🕸 🕷 🕸

“How could he, priest?”

“You must be confused, Chrollo. Skandar left ten years ago and nobody’s seen him since. He can’t be responsible for yesterday’s tragedy.”

But Chrollo remembered it all crystal clear. As he had promised, Skandar came back and it was to bring Chrollo with him. He saw recommending Chrollo to his boss as a huge opportunity for his little brother to leave behind his miserable life at Meteor City definitely. Of course, that is not how Skandar stated the proposal to Chrollo.

Persuaded, Chrollo went on to meet the boss, Kega Oro. The latter told him of the incident with a tramp from Meteor City who was falsely accused of murder, followed by the assassination of thirty one people involved in the case. “I’m sure you’ll recognize this ‘motto’,” he said as he showed Chrollo a piece of paper with the words ‘We’ll accept anything you leave here, but don’t ever take anything away from us’ written on it. “This was found near the corpse of one of the victims. The assassins used explosives, a method common for Meteor City residents.” A brief silence governed the room. “Need I say more?” Still silent. “I thought so… Skandar, Tzede, Gunther, Mot and Chrollo, you are in charge of sending a _message_ to the Meteor City’s Assembly. The attack will commence shortly.”

To Skandar’s disappointment, his―now lost―little brother vehemently refused the offer. Chrollo raced back to Meteor City. Noticing that the invasion was already happening when he arrived, he went to Ms. Komacine’s to find out the slums had been demolished by one of the projectiles from the tanks that were surrounding the junkyard city. Only Machi and Pakunoda had escaped in time.

Not long after, the Elder appeared at Ms. Komacine, desperately searching for Chrollo. “Boy, I need your help.”

Chrollo said, “Sir, the mafia is behind all this, and… And Skandar, his friends… They are all with them. I don’t―”

“Shut it, boy! I know. I know everything. Listen, I need you to use that ability we’ve been working on to steal mine.”

“Steal **The Sun and Moon** with **Skill Hunter**? But why?”

“No time to explain. Just do it, boy!”

Chrollo did as the old man desired. Later that day, the Elder and rest of the Meteor City Assembly were found dead. Chrollo had the chance to peek at the scene; it was gruesome. Interestingly enough, **The Sun and Moon** did not vanish from the pages of the **Bandit’s Secret**.

“I’m telling you, priest. Skandar _was_ behind the attack. Ten years ago, when he departed, he said he was looking for a better life, but I can’t believe he willingly chose to do what he has done in the name of a better life for himself.”

“Well, Chrollo, even if he was behind it, you should not blame him. He did not elect to walk this path. Everything’s work of the divine, and our only purpose in life is to be pawns of the creator. Free will is nothing more than an earthly illusion.”


	7. Solving × unfinished × business

The team responsible for reaching the vault was at the third level of the grandstand. “Boss, we’ve been waiting by this door for some time now. Shouldn’t we just get inside the cage and look for the elevator ourselves?” rushed Bonolenov.

Phinks, sitting on the corpse of a bodyguard, agreed, “Yeah, boss, I found this guy’s ID card to open the door. Not that we need it: we can just break into the cage…”

“First of all, we won’t be able to find the elevator alone. Shal said he’ll show us the way as soon as he can, so we’ll trust his words,” said Chrollo. A bodyguard opened the door. “Speaking of the devil...” Phinks went up to the woman; just another guard to eliminate. “Don’t, Phinks. Can’t you see the antenna on the back of her neck?” said Chrollo. “Come on, lead us to the elevator.”

Chrollo, Phinks, Bonolenov and Kortopi ran through the corridors, following every sharp turn that Shalnark’s puppet made. Phink’s phone rang. “Hello?” he answered.

“Phinks, put the boss on the line.”

“Am I not enough to―”

“Stop the jokes, Phinks, this is serious!”

“Alright, alright, I’m putting on the speakerphone…”

“Chrollo, can you hear me? Good. We’ve got bad company; the Horsemen will be here any minute. I don’t know what we got ourselves into, but this is not the time to be acting tough. Were you aware they worked for Oro?”

“The Horsemen!? That’s the last thing I needed to hear,” Phinks said, while Bonolenov and Kortopi showed confusion towards his worry.

Chrollo did not respond immediately. “Independent of that, I trust you can deal with them.”

“What!?” screamed Machi.

“Boss, we’re talking about the people behind the attack on Meteor City. These people are insanely strong. Shouldn’t we retreat for now?” said Phinks.

“Exactly, boss, shouldn’t we?” said Machi over the phone.

Though Chrollo knew that putting the members to fight the Horsemen was a necessary evil in order to orchestrate his plan, he thought they would face this issue more as an additional challenge. Therefore, it was possible to note his taken aback expression by the fact that they were so hesitant about it. “The coin. Flip the coin. We retreat if it lands heads.” The Troupe leader flipped their iconic coin. It landed tails.

“Huh, we stay then…” Machi said.

“Machi, we’re heading for the elevator. Any news on the keycard?” said Chrollo.

Machi explained that the lock could only be opened with organic material from Oro’s favourite pegasus, and told them that she had informed Nobuko to deliver it to them, and that… Her talking ceased. Soon after, they heard a thud coming from the other side of the line.

“I guess Machi’s team is in for a fight, now,” said Phinks.

The four found themselves at a dead end. The heavy sliding door of the elevator opened to them in synchronicity with their arrival―Drive’s doing. “Well, if it isn’t Chrollo and his gang…” a familiar voice echoed through the corridor. An older man―some ten years older than Chrollo―revealed himself before them, turning from the corridor opposite to the one that they had taken―the only other way to the dead end. With steps of tranquility, he approached them, his long coat a few inches short of dragging across the floor. However boring and simple his all-gray, oversized office wear and his monotone pair of glasses would look in an average situation, the contrasting whiteness of the corridor really worked in its favor. Contrast or not, his presence was the definition of authority. Not of any kind, though. It felt like he would oblige them to agree to and sign an endless mountain of one-sided contracts and pledges and commitments and other kinds of papers whose terms and conditions, however misleading and incomprehensible, they unquestionably wished would never apply.

 _Skandar!_ though Phinks.

 _Skandar_ , though Chrollo. “The three of you go ahead and reach the underground.” _I’ve found my prey_.

Not the slightest hint of ‘stopping Phinks, Bonolenov and Kortopi from going down’ passed through Skandar’s mind; he was there for Chrollo and Chrollo only. Their clash began. A clash of titans; a clash between two masters of specialization. Skandar activated his ability **War Slave** , making an office binder appear on his hands. He summoned a giant hound with tyrian purple fur.

In a rapid response, Chrollo conjured **Skill Hunter**. Skandar’s beast itself was inanimate, but, as the body was being summoned, its sheer size crammed the corridor. To avoid being smashed against the walls, Chrollo jumped as if he was going to kick the hound; midair, he teleported it behind him and aimed his blow for Skandar. The latter evaded the attack by somersaulting towards one of the bifurcations. Left with no choice, the Troupe leader took the only escape route. He had admitted to himself that he was at a disadvantage regarding the battleground and had thought that he ought to find a wider space to fight.

On the run, Chrollo started hearing a heavy stomping: Skandar was chasing him on the hound’s back. Eventually, Chrollo got to the limit of the château’s main building and broke through a window. He fell straight into Oro's private botanical garden. And Skandar followed. Chrollo dashed inside Oro’s manor, which was right across. There, he found a room spacious enough and hid. It was completely dark. Only the loud race of the hound was hearable for the room. As the noise got louder, Chrollo knew he had to get ready… The noise abruptly came to an end.

The door opened, Skandar laughing as the hound and him entered. “I never thought I’d live to see you running from me again, Chrollo… This time, the monster isn’t made of card boxes.

“Smart of you to avoid the confined space against me, but I’m afraid your ‘setup’ won’t be as helpful as you think.” Skandar unmounted the hound and turned on the lights. It revealed an extensive, magnificent collection of treasures, artifacts and creatures. “You see, Oro uses this room to keep his rare items, which, for instance, includes this Tyrannosaurus fossil… Or even the replica of these two Melanin Lizards mates.” Followed by the hound, Skandar walked to both pieces, then stamped them. In turn, the massive bone structure and reptile started moving as if they had gained life.

Chrollo appeared at the entrance door and closed it calmly. “What a fascinating ability. **Order Stamp** , isn’t it?”

“Correct,” said Skandar, adjusting his glasses, “I see you like the name… Break him, my puppets.”


	8. The × red × rider

Gunther, whose pompous moustache could never go unnoticed, sported a military garb with all the medal ribbons imaginable. His aura was truly menacing, so much so it dazed the guests at the ballroom and turned some insane. Nobuko and Feitan endure his **Ren** , but, still, something about it was particularly oppressive. The sensation was that of being handcuffed, rendered totally useless before an enemy whose might was such that he seemed the only one worthy of bearing any power at all, the only one worthy of monopolizing on any form of violence.

“Do you know this man?” Nobuko asked Feitan.

“From long ago. Careful, he dangerous.”

“I’m certainly grateful for the words, my friend,” said Gunther. “But how do you expect me to let you live when you’ve just killed the boss’ daughter?”

“Never did.”

Gunther boosted his aura output even more and charged at both Troupe members, with the shockwave, shattering the glass walls that were often used to admire the rural landscape from above. Nobuko created a barrier with **Demonic Ink: Seigaiha**. Gunther broke through it like it was an average reinforced concrete wall. He busted a **Ko** right into the Troupe members. They escaped, but Gunther grabbed Nobuko by her leg and flinged her at Feitan―a clean hit that sent both flying.

Feitan got up first and opened his umbrella. From behind it, he came bouncing on the walls and ceiling unimaginably fast. A dozen afterimages a second threatened Gunther, while Feitan looked for the perfect opportunity to strike. There it was: Gunther fell for an afterimage. Feitan impaled his back. Before Feitan could remove the blade, Gunther turned around and lifted him by the head with one of his enormous hands. He extracted the blade and threw in on the ground. 

“Feitan!” Nobuko screamed. At that same moment, the man that had recognized Nobuko called for her name again. From fear of Gunther’s aura, he tripped and fell through the window. “Dad!” said Nobuko. She was divided. It was when a mischievous idea struck her. Ultimately, she raced to the window and dove right in.

Oro and Mot arrived at the salon. “Where is my daughter?” said the former. When he glanced at the corpse torn in two, his eyes glistened with uncontrollable tears. “Curse you Chrollo!” he snapped―Mot had explained to Oro that the kidnappers worked under the same Chrollo from seven years ago.

Mot also reacted to seeing Gunther hanging Feitan by the head. “Are you crazy?” Without hesitation, he banished Feitan to the **Spirit World** with a swing of his scythe. “Wasn’t it _you_ who once told me he could transmute his aura into a scorching ball of fire?”

“I was just enjoying myself…” said Gunther.

“ **Demonic Ink: Dragon**!” The dragon tattoo on Nobuko’s left leg grew into a giant, living serpent dragoness. She mounted the roaring creature and, in a turbulent descent, caught her father midair. “Honestly, you’re such a pain.”

“What is this, Nobuko? Do you think I’m changing my mind just because you saved me? As if you weren’t enough of a disgrace, you are now responsible for killing Oro’s daughter! How much more shame are you going to bring upon our family?”

They were almost back at the airship when Nobuko said, “Family? In reality, you never considered mom or me part of the family, so how can I be a disgrace to a family that is not mine. In fact, my found family would respect my present actions.” Entering the huge salon, Nobuko said, “Also, I didn’t save you; much the opposite. Good luck convincing Oro that you’re not involved in this,” and dropped Kakuji.

When Nobuko saw Feitan’s body on the ground, she froze for a second. The dragoness tried to chomp Gunther, but he landed a fist that knocked them out of the airship again. “I’ll deal with her,” said Gunther as he propelled himself towards Nobuko.

Oro confronted Kakuji, “You have some explaining to do Kakuji! Was it you who brought your daughter to the wedding?”

“No, sir.”

“Then how did she get here?”

“I have no idea, sir, please. I don’t know what she’s doing.”

“She’s trying to rob my fortune, that’s what she’s doing! Pretty convenient for someone whose branch is short of money, if you ask me.”

“Absolutely not, sir, the Inagawa branch has nothing to do with her actions. I swear.”

“Prove it. The resources I supply to your Clan are on the line.”

“How?”

As Oro ordered Mot to throw Feitan’s body off the window and then go safeguard the vault, he stopped to think. “Kill her. My daughter is dead because of her. If you kill your daughter, we’ll be even,” he said with an adamant attitude.

Kakuji stuttered a bit. “Anything, sir. I’ll hire the best assassins I know.” Kakuji dialed a number on his cellphone. “Hello?”

The other side of the line answered, “Yes, this is the butler’s office.”

Meanwhile, at the stalls, Uvogin and Nobunaga were arguing. “I reminded you not to put the phone in your back pocket,” Nobunaga complained. “Exactly because I knew you would sit on it and break the freaking phone, just like last time!”

“Oi, shut up. Let’s just finish the task, get the pegasi over with,” said Uvogin. As he tilted his head to avoid eye contact with the furious Nobunaga, he noticed something much more interesting than slaying animals. “Wait, is that Nobuko’s dragon?”

“Oh… Yeah, I think it is. What the―? Hey, that guy just jumped at them!”

Uvogin grinned. “Screw these pegasi. Let’s go where the action is.” Nobunaga rushed behind him.

Nobuko had been thrown away from her mountery. Wrestling, the giant dragoness got Gunther off of itself with a whip of its tail and dove down to catch Nobuko. As she regained her stance, Nobuko and the dragoness ascended in a spiral, preparing themselves for a brutal impact with the enemy. Gunther charged his clenched fists and brought them above his head; he was prepared to beat the dragoness’ face with two simultaneous slams. A hundred feet between them. Fifty feet. Twenty feet. Ten feet. There was no impact… Instead, Uvogin, who had used the monstrous strength of his thighs to thrust him dozens of yards into the air, spiked Gunther. The Horseman crashed with tremendous speed, while Uvogin came down grabbed by the dragoness.

“Nobunaga, watch out. Didn’t expect to see him here, but it’s Gunther,” said Uvogin.

“Gunther, the maniac who used to train with Feitan and us, or the Gunther who―?”

“Yeah, that Gunther.”

Nobunaga’s eyes exposed that his tone had just become more serious upon hearing that. “Get into the third formation, Uvo.”

“Third? Ok.” Uvogin positioned himself in front of Nobunaga. “Nobuko, leave Gunther to us. Go provide the keycard to the vault team, like you said. You’ll get there faster on your dragon.”

“Leave it to me.” She left for the stalls.

 _Sixty seconds_ , thought Uvogin.

The dust from Gunther’s fall settled and revealed him brushing it off his uniform. “Uvo, hard-hitting as always… Shall we do it like the old times? Actually, to be fair with our friend Feitan, not like the old times because he isn’t here, but I think we can have some fun just the three of us. **One Man Army**!” Gunther activated his ability. Like a typical enhancement technique, it maxed his offensive and defensive capabilities.

 _Forty five seconds_.

Although overflowing with aura, Uvogin stood frozen solid in place. _Thirty seven_. Gunther found it unusual on his part but still went head on, barraging him with jabs. Uvogin tried to retaliate with precisely timed punches of his own; some were successful, some were not. It was a true exchange of blows, the power of each shook the air around them―a spectacular demonstration of what proficient enhancers were capable of. _Twenty four seconds_. Given the opportunity, the Horseman grabbed Uvogin’s wrists and prepared a headbutt. Uvogin faked a headbut too but instead clenched his teeth on Gunther’s hand, which released his right arm. “ **Big Bang Impact**!” Gunther was sent back a few yards, unlike the usual victim of **Big Bang Impact** , who normally flew dozens away―given that they were sturdy enough to first survive disintegration. _Ten seconds_.

The Horsemen still did not understand why Uvogin would not move from where he was. _Seven seconds_. He gripped onto the ground― _five_ ―and, from the kick of his legs and the pull of his arms, launched himself like a ballistic missile. _Two seconds._ The Troupe member took a stance to intercept him. _One!_ When the moment was right, Uvogin leaped over the flying Gunther.

It seemed like Nobunaga had done nothing during the whole fight. However, that could not be further from the truth. The swordsman was setting up an ability whose conditions prevented him from moving. Once settled, he needed to close his eyes and achieve a state of flawless **Zetsu** to render himself completely undefended. After years of experience, he noted that it took him one minute, so their ‘third formation’, simply put, was Uvogin protecting Nobunaga for that time period. If the two managed to do that, Nobunaga’s **The Shogun’s Sword** enabled him to slice through any Nen-barrier within the four-meter radius of his **En**. Despite the short range, Nobunaga was a master of Iaidō.

The thing is: because Nobunaga was deep into **Zetsu** , his presence was regularly forgotten by enemies during a steamed fight against Uvogin. And for this reason, Gunther had actually launched himself into his own demise.


	9. The × pale × rider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a footnote. When you see "(1)," scroll to the bottom of the page.

Phinks, Bonolenov and Kortopi fidgeted in the slowly descending elevator. The latter looked at Bonolenov and waved his head. “So, Phinks, who are the Horsemen Machi mentioned?” Bonolenov said.

“Oh, that’s right. I guess you guys were lost during the debate. Well, they’re some psychos _from_ Meteor City who _attacked_ Meteor City; they’re four, so the residents ended up calling them ‘The Four Horsemen of Apocalypse’. Not gonna lie, though, they are crazy strong. But I can’t even respect them for that,” explained Phinks. “Probably, only Chrollo can manage one of them alone―that’s why I felt comfortable leaving him up there. This means, if we engage with one of them, we should be careful and work as a team.” Phinks was cut short when the ride abruptly stopped. “What’s going on? Why did we stop?”

“Maybe Drive was attacked by one of the Horsemen,” said Kortopi.

“That’s a possibility, for sure…” They waited for a few minutes, yet the elevator would not regain its movement. “Alright, Chrollo said we couldn’t destroy the vault; he didn’t say anything about the elevator. Don’t mind me, then,” said Phinks, punching the floor so hard that it detached from the elevator and collapsed, unpleasantly scraping the walls. The noise of metal on metal merged with triggered alarm. In no time, the three crash landed.

At last, the Troupe had arrived at the underground level. It resembled a lobby as wide as those that usually accommodate big conventions―it even had those industrial-size fans stuck on the ceiling to help the air circulate―, except that there was an army of guards ready for combat, some of which evidently were Nen-users. The words ‘ **Battle Cantabile: The Prologue** ’ echoed throughout the entire chamber. Firearms began shooting indiscriminately and ceaselessly. The numerous sentry guns fired bullets at the walls and beams in vain attempts to open more holes in Bonolenov’s body. Phinks rampaged all the machinery; a simple powered-up strike was more than enough to destroy even the heaviest of them. Concomitantly, Bonolenov pierced both normal guards and Nen-users alike with his conjured tribal spear. And this quickly, they decimated the defense squad at the entrance of the vault.

Having sensed a strong presence, Kortopi joined Phinks’ and Bonolenov’s side. “Look out, someone’s coming from the elevator.”

Mot fell through the same hole they had used to reach the underground. Clapping for the show, he said, “And I thought you wouldn’t even get past Oro’s defense.” The atmosphere shifted towards macabre. With every clap from Mot, it was as if the grim reaper themself continuously seduced the Troupe members to end their misery right there and then. Stripping them out of any hope, the morbid figure incarnated despair concerning the ephemeral nature of all things, for even the construct of the Spider―their most prized expression of identity―would, sooner or later, perish.

“Kortopi, Bono, it’s Mot, one of the Horsemen Machi warned us about. Don’t underestimate him and don’t let him cut you with his scythe. Also―”

The Horsemen conjured said weapon and sprinted in the direction of Phinks. Bonolenov parried it with his spear, broke the enemy’s defense and took the chance to stab him in the chest. “No!” Looking agitated, Phinks pushed Bonolenov aside and tried to punch Mot as far away as he could… Boom! A violent explosion sent the three members flying. They landed tripping, but quickly recovered their stance.

“Some of his attacks are explosive decoys; you’ve gotta watch out for the real one,” Phinks said. “Hear me out, ok? We’ll need some strategy if we want to take this guy out. He can teleport between two parallel dimensions to avoid any of our attacks, so we need to corner him in both of them.” The members look at the only exit from the underground level, then look at eachother.

“You’re talking too much, Phink. How about we discuss this matter in private?” Mot went for Phinks one more time.

Although he was perfectly capable of dodging Mot’s attack, Phinks stayed still. The Horseman noticed Phinks’ sudden smirk― _That’s what he wants me to do_ , thought Mot―, so he changed targets: Mot vanished into one of his turmoils, reappeared beside Bonolenov and surprised him with a slash. Bonolenov’s body hit the ground. “If you think I’m so predictable that every move I make will follow your plan, you really deserve to die here, Phinks Magcub,” said Mot. “You’re hoping your friend will force me back into this dimension―which, by the way, won’t happen―to land a blow on me. Let me ruin your plan, then.” Mot deployed his ability **Mist of Death** , aura transmuted into poisonous gas. Staying at the underground level had become lethal. “Now, I’d like to get to know the indigenous guy better,” said the Horseman, as he teleported to the **Spirit World**.

Bonolenov welcomed Mot with his spear. This time, however, he noticed the decoy and halted. “Oh, smart choice… I see we’re both conjurers.” They dashed at one another and crossed their blades. “Which do you think will reign supreme: my scythe of your spear?” They jumped back, distancing themselves.

“I abhor your audacity,” Bonolenov said. They clashed head-on again. “Your foolish question accuses your inability to recognize, respect, much less appreciate a rich culture or its sacred artifacts, which is the case of my spear.” And they jumped back again. “People of your kin are responsible for the slaughter of the Gyudondond Tribe, so I would even prefer not to grace you with the gift of death, Horsemen.”

As Mot prepared to attack, ensuring Bonolenov that his grace would not be needed, the Troupe member began a ritualistic dance. The sound created by the wind whistling through the holes on Bonolenov’s body stunned Mot. “I know what you are thinking: that you are confident that you can handle me alone. However, I am going to tell you why you are utterly mistaken. My ability will crush you and there is nothing you can do, for it travels at sound speed.” Bonolenov completed his dance and shouted, “ **Battle Cantabile: Jupiter**!” Cracks opened everywhere around him due to the change in pressure.

Dazed by the sound, yet unconvinced by Bonolenov’s arguments, Mot tried crawling to the elevator exit. The noise intensified. _The other two must have gone by now_ , he thought. The ground trembled increasingly. _Even if they had stayed,_ **_Mist of Death_ ** _would have killed them, so it’s probably safe_. The Horseman was not going to make it, unless…

At the last second, Mot teleported to the real world. To his astonishment, the venomous gas was gone. It was when he saw the queue of high power industrial fans aligned in such a way that directed the gas out of the underground and up the hole on the elevator: while he battled Bonolenov, Phinks positioned the replicas that Kortopi was conjuring of the fans on the ceiling.

Preparations aside, it was a jackpot: the Horseman teleported to the exact spot that they had predicted. Kortopi promptly erected a column of concrete identical to the ones of the lobby, compressing Mot between it and the ceiling. Totally immobile, the last words Mot heard were Phinks’ ‘ **Ripper Cyclotron**!’

The room was filled by the dust from the blown up cement. Phinks emerged from the dust cloud, brushing off his shoulders, and said, “I guess this is no place for a horse _man_!” He laughed out loud at his own joke . (1)

“What now?” asked Bonolenov, who had just regained control of his real body.

“Now, we wait for the keycard to come right through that hole on the elevator. Talking about the elevator, I wonder how the servers team is doing…”

Meanwhile, at the server room, the tension was high. Franklin’s Nen-bullets and Drive’s electric discharges filled the air. In the end, it was all pretty much ineffective against Tzede. _Why a Horsemen, of all people? And why her, of all Horsemen?_ Shalnark thought. 

Drive tried approaching Tzede wielding an electric whip and was thrown back. Shalnark aided him. “Shal, I get where you and Franklin come from when you say our only chance of beating her is you sticking your other antenna on her, but we can’t even get near. I estimate there’s no way to win with only the three of us.” Shalnark sighted Franklin being cast far out and smashing a row of servers like dominos.

Shalnark considered that he could try sticking the antenna onto himself with the risk that it would not be enough to defeat her. Ultimately, he did stick it onto his leg. However, admitting the difficulties they were facing, he decided to give himself an alternative task. “Autopilot on...” his cellphone voiced. “Enemy identified… Searching for ally that can win against enemy… Ally located…” Shalnark grabbed Drive and Franklin. With immense speed, they broke out of the server room and flew around the corridors; then out of the château’s main building, over the garden and into Oro’s manor. Tzede followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (1) If you missed the joke, don’t worry because you're probably not alone. It’s a reference to the voice acting of Darksiders II, a game (what a game!) which unfortunately is pretty niche nowadays. If you actually got it, props to you!
> 
> I would like to reiterate that Kortopi is, indeed, a formidable conjurer because most people don't appreciate this fact (I definitely didn't the first time I watched the anime). To quote Hunterpedia, "He holds an immense amount of aura, since he claimed that he could make more than fifty copies of the building he was inside with the rest of the Phantom Troupe if Chrollo had just asked him to."


	10. Honouring × the × contract

Nobuko found herself inside the stalls. Uvogin and Nobunaga had not finished their task, so only a few of pegasi there were slayed. The challenge was their number: Oro owned around fifty first-class pure breeds of racing pegasi. No, actually, the challenge was the smell: it was hard keeping the home of fifty animals hygienic the whole time. The Troupe member had no idea as to how she could figure out which one was Perseus and had an urge to get it done with.

Walking around, Nobuko approached an outstanding breed. As she ran her hand over the pegasi’s silky crest, it reminded her of the Kirin tattoo that her mother had. _No wonder. It’s red and green, just like mom’s Kirin_ , she thought, _Red and Green… Wait! What was Perseus’ color again?_ _Perseus, the… The… Sky-blue marvel. That’s it: Perseus, the sky-blue marvel!_ Nobuko looked around the stalls, determined, for a blue pegasi. She found two. One of them was marine blue; the other could only be Perseus. Lucky her that Nobunaga had decapitated it prior to leaving―just the ideia of having to murder an animal herself made her sick. Nobuko put Perseus’ head inside a sack and left.

Outside, she mounted her dragoness and flew to the château’s main building. Halfway there, she sighted Chrollo being chased by a giant wolf-like creature into Oro’s personal manor. _Chrollo? Did something happen to the vault team?_ Thinking she would better help Chrollo, Nobuko deviated from her path. She landed on the private garden and headed for the manor.

Meanwhile, an elongated shadow slithered on the clouds. During a split second, it vanished… Only to, twisting a hole in the clouds, descend below them and reveal itself as a winged serpent dragon of greenish fur. A muscular man of silver-blond hair wearing a shinobi kimono stood on it. He stepped into the air and fell down. “ **Extinction Comet**!” he said, charging his punch with a unique glowing, violet aura.

Nobuko was beginning to climb the staircase to the entrance of the manor when she noticed the ambush and prung herself backwards. Although from a pinch, she successfully escaped the attack, which destroyed the staircase and ejected multiple debris. “Are you a Horseman, too?” Quicker than the eye can see and before the dust cloud could settle, Silva pierced through it and tried impaling Nobuko with his sharp claws. Another close call: “ **Demonic Ink: Seigaiha**!” She blocked him with her seigaiha-style wave tattoo at the last second. No time to breath, though. Silva was already above her. He tried to stomp her with both feet, but she somersaulted away. “ **Demonic Ink: Tiger**!” With both the dragoness and the tigress beside her, Nobuko was completely ready for combat.

The dragoness went first, face to face with Silva. The seigaiha wave was split in two streams and directed around the dragoness to corner Silva in three such angles that he had only one escape: up. Silva jumped on top of the mythical creature to avoid being swallowed whole or mutilated. However, the tigress, that was running along the dragoness long back, caught him off guard. Silva grabbed the feline by the mouth, impeding it to bite him. Both fell rolling, followed by a double kick on the tigress’ torax which sent it flying.

Silva kicked up. The moment he got back on his feet, Nobuko surrounded him with a dome formed from her wave. The assassin promptly dispelled the cage with the technique **The Snake Awakens**. As he did so, the fighters saw a golden aura flashing by and a woman running after it. Nobuko recognized Shalnark and the other members; Silva recognized Tzede. _Attorney wear; electronic visor covering both eyes; wielding a gavel and accompanied by scales; judge haircut… There’s no doubt. What’s Kikyo’s sister doing here? At least, that explains why Nobuko asked if I was a Horseman_ , he thought. No time to digress anymore: the two creatures were already heading towards Silva again. Silva raced to the tigress and tossed it on the dragoness head. Both got stunned. Silva formed two energy-dense spheres out of aura, then hurled them at Nobuko’s creatures, splashing ink all over.

In return for the sheer strength of her creatures, Nobuko too suffered a portion of the damage they took―after all, the tattoos were, in some sense, part of her body as well. For this reason Nobuko felt exhausted by now.

“Judging by the way you looked worried for the three escapists, they must be your friends,” Silva said. “I must warn you that it’s not simple to come out victorious against someone of Tzede’s caliber. But once you know her trick, it’s possible to corner her.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“You see, Nobuko, your father is an old customer of the Zoldyck family, so I’m grateful for making business with him. Of course, if I was one day paid to kill him, that sentiment wouldn’t make a difference. But, for some reason, I want to be honest with you and say that he lost his way when he hired my family to kill his spouse some years ago… A shame.”

“Five years ago…” said Nobuko.

Silva approached her, turning the fingernails of his right hand into claws again. Nobuko could barely stand up, and her only resource left was **Demonic Ink: Seigaiha** , which she molded into defensive form. Silva transmuted a burst of razor-sharp aura onto his right hand. His steps became gradually more misleading, and, after Nobuko blinked, countless afterimages of Silva had already surrounded her: it was his **Rhythm Echo**. She had lost the real one. One of them jumped, then came another, and another, and another―all fake… She opened her eyes from a second blink to all of them showering on her from above.


	11. The × white × rider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a footnote. When you see "(2)," scroll to the bottom of the page.

‘Pawns of the creator’, ‘work of the divine’, ‘free will is an earthly illusion’… The words from the priest resonated with Chrollo. It was as simple as that: he had never been more certain of anything in his life. At every person who came in to receive a bowl of stew from the priest, Chrollo became more engulfed in denial. _Skandar could not have chosen to hurt us. Nobody could. Nobody can… I can’t_ , he thought in an attempt of self-consolation. And this impression lingered for weeks.

One day Chrollo was walking down a busy street when he heard an old gipsy selling her magic to the passersby. “Come in and see what the Universe has in store for you.”

“How much for you to read my fortune?” Chrollo asked.

“The right amount,” she said, opening a way through her tent’s curtains, made of red sparkling pebbles. Chrollo sighted, and they went inside.

Both sat by her exoteric table, the woman said, “If we want to understand your future, first we’ve got to recover your past and analyze your present. Draw three cards: the Major Arcanes will symbolize the stages of your journey… Now, set your spread, the order in which the Arcanes will be read―to your left, the past; to your right, the future; the present stays in the middle, connecting them.”

“How do I choose this?” said Chrollo.

“Whatever spread you set will be the message the Universe’s trying to convey to you; you are choosing nothing.”

Chrollo gulped and thought, _That’s right…_ He ordered the cards.

“Very well, I shall begin turning the cards over. Tell me a little bit about past events that led you to this session.”

“I was disappointed by a lifelong brother―he was not really my brother, but we’ve always felt like brothers to each other. And because of his actions, I’ve experienced many losses.”

The woman revealed the card on the left of Chrollo. “The card of ‘The Fool’ represents purity and innocence.” It was illustrated with a jester juggling balls. ‘The Fool’ cannot recognize the dangers of the world: albeit he may be walking on a thin tightrope, he progresses with enthusiasm for, above all, the unknown.

“Now, speak out of your current situation in life,” the gipsy said.

“I’d say I’m trapped in some type of purgatory. The days pass by, but I don't feel that way; it’s like I’m not living my own life, or like I don’t belong in my life.”

“Oh, a reversed card,” said the woman, after she had turned the middle card. “Every card has an upright meaning and a reversed meaning. In this case, you drew the reverse of ‘The Hanged Man’.” Chrollo stared at the drawing of the crucified, yet unbothered man; of course, given that the card was upside down, the cross was reversed and the man looked to be in his best state of mind. “Generally, this card indicates that a sacrifice is either needed or has been done. After a period of stagnation, a reversed instance of ‘The Hanged Man’ can be interpreted as a positive sign that you already know―consciously or unconsciously―what sacrifice you must make, however, your hesitation is still getting the best of you during this period.

“Finally, we can see what the Universe has to say about your future.” The woman revealed the third and last card, which was decorated with humans reverencing a horn-playing angel. “This makes sense… The card of ‘The Judgement’ foresees a rebirth. With the insights of an honest reflection on your deeds, you may uncloak what is worth keeping with you and what is not, awakening a new way of life, as serene as those of the immaculate souls that ascend to the melody of the heavens.”

Chrollo said, “Long story short, I was a fool and fell from the tightrope. Now, only if I make a sacrifice that I’m hesitating to make, that I’ll be able to get back up.”

“Perfect!” said the fortune teller, cheerful on the outside but bitter on the inside due to the client having just reduced her work. She extended her right hand. “Fifteen hundred Jennie, please.”

🕸 🕷 🕸

Chrollo dodged attack after attack from Skandar’s puppets. The Horseman was growing bored of watching it from afar, so he decided to play a card that he had up his sleeve. “What if I told you the Elder is not actually dead?” The comment, indeed, got Chrollo’s attention, enough for him to turn his eyes to Skandar. To the Troupe leader’s surprise, the Elder was standing right there, next to Skandar. Munch! Skandar’s distraction trick worked, and Chrollo was swallowed whole by one of the Melanin Lizards. “Pathetic,” Skandar said.

Everything became silent for a moment. Upon closer inspection, it would be possible to note, nonetheless, that the lizard struggled to keep his mouth shut. Slowly, Chrollo opened the lizard’s mouth―one hand on its tongue, the other on the roof of its mouth―and jumped out. When the lizard closed its mouth as a result of the force it was applying against Chrollo, its head blasted off in a formidable explosion. No blood, though.

“Wow, I have to congratulate you, now that I finally comprehend your set of abilities,” Chrollo said. Skandar met the confrontation with an adjustment of his glasses. “You use that office binder to file enemies, allowing you afterwards to conjure them at will. No, let me rephrase: conjure a dummy copy of them. After all, only a conjurer would fathom to ever be able to freely summon such a variety of living beings. But your genius intellect surmounted this critical hindrance with the ability **Order Stamp** , which grants you the power to manipulate whatever dummy stamped by it.

“I’m still not sure when it comes to the conditions on your binder. If I had to guess―judging by the facts that you’ve summoned the Elder, and that I saw his corpse after the attack to Meteor City―, one of the conditions, if not the _only_ condition, is to kill the target.”

Skandar composedly laughed. “I couldn’t expect any less from you, Chrollo. I’ve figured some aspects of your **Hatsu** too, but, if I’m being honest, I still lack arguments as refined as yours. Surely, your technique involves some form of replication of a target’s ability, as evidenced by the marks on your hands, characteristic of the old geezer’s **The Sun and Moon**.

“You see… Usually, when I summon a dummy of a Nen-user, I can make them use their abilities too if their post-mortem Nen was enough. Given that, yet this was the case when I killed the Elder, I couldn’t use his ability, I can only presume that your target loses access to the copied abilities. A scandalous act of thievery, if you will.”

Skandar explained that, as a matter of fact, he was supposed to kill only the Elder to replace him with the dummy, controlling Meteor City from the inside. However, when he informed Oro that the plan had failed, for the others would realize it was not the real Elder as soon as he had to use his powers again, the Ten Dons decided to exterminate the entire Meteor City Assembly.

“I won’t blame you for the lives of the other members of the Assembly because it was probably the geezer himself who asked you to steal his ability. At that time, you were too innocent to come up with anything of this nature.

“Discussing all of this made me realize one thing, Chrollo. Although I’ve despised you for the last seven years, you’ll make a fine addition to my collection of slaves.”

The aura-pressure in the room escalated quickly. (2) “ **Indoor Fish**!” Chrollo spawned two flying eel-like creatures and commanded them to attack. They swimmed through the air. One was chomped by the fossil and flinged back at Chrollo. The Melanin Lizard sprung up high. Before it could land on top of the other fish, Chrollo placed **Double Face** on **Skill Hunter** ’s current page; he teleported the eel thrown at him while it was still in midair to such a place that it slammed the jumping Lizard instead.

The giant hound immediately went for Chrollo. He stepped on its head, then used the height to leap on top of the tail end of the free eel, which crushed every bone of the fossil with its hard bite. The fish made a slow u-turn in the air. Its next target: Skandar himself. Chrollo drew his Ben’s knife and started running along the eel’s back. The **Indoor Fish** munched on Skandar. He dodged successfully and went below it. Smacking its head on the ground, the flying creature convulsed and made Chrollo lose equilibrium. The hound came back and jumped at Chrollo. He closed the book and deactivated **Double Face** , forcing the fish to vanish; he fell to the ground―evading the hound’s bite by a pinch―, rolled and sprinted to the Horseman. Skandar did not see him. Slash! A clean cut. 

“Aaaaargh!” shouted Skandar: Chrollo had just cut off his hand. He grabbed it and distanced himself from the Horsemen. “I refuse to perish by your hands, Chrollo!” Furious, Skandar yelled at the hound, “Tear him apart!”

The Troupe leader leisurely placed the mutilated limb over the handprint on the cover of **Skill Hunter** , causing the creature to halt midway. The aggressive beast turned around and started heading for Skandar, who was visibly suffering from the paralyzing poison from the Ben’s knife. “Do you remember when you told me that surnames bear a reputation? For these last seven years, it got me thinking about a surname to adopt―one, of course, that would be self-explanatory of my reputation. Well, I’ve fallen from the tightrope and, with the aid of my army, faced the world to rise back up. Nothing more appropriate, thus, than to call myself ‘Lucilfer’, ‘Chrollo Lucilfer’, don’t you think? Rest in peace, Skandar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (2) For a more thrilling experience, the reader is invited to play (at least mentally) an extended version of “The Man of the Reversed Cross,” from the 2011 anime adaptation’s OST, for the duration of the fight.


	12. The × black × rider

Before the bride and the groom started taking photos with the guests, they had arrived at the airship on the back of beautiful pegasi for an extra show. Since the groom was not trained at riding, the flown distance could not be too great; thus, one of the protocols of the wedding stipulated that the airship would hover over Oro’s manor. This meant that, when Mot threw Machi, Pakunoda and Feitan out of the airship, their bodies reached high speeds and, due to the indestructibility granted by Mot’s ability, they broke through the roof on the manor. Since Mot had met his fate, the three returned to their bodies before their time of stay in the **Spirit World** was up.

Machi and Pakunoda wandered around the manor, following the noises that they heard. As they went down a batch of staircases, they identified the door of the room from where such noises were originating. When they were about to open the door, Shalnark flew straight past them; Tzede was obviously still chasing them. “The servers team? Should we go help them!” suggested Machi. Pakunoda advised against it and said that they should first check the room.

The two opened the door to a giant hound of tyrian-purple fur devouring Skandar in one bite. As it did so, the hound itself vanished. “Chrollo!” both screamed as the Troupe leader fell to his knees. They laid him down and asked if he needed first aid.

“I’m tired and, at the same time, feel like an enormous weight that I’ve carried all my life has suddenly been erased.”

“It’s because you’ve killed Skandar, at last,” Machi said. “That was your true intention with this mission, wasn’t it? You wanted revenge for his betrayal.”

“Your intuition is sharp as always, Machi,” said Chrollo, “but something is not completely right.” He argued, “There’s no such thing as a traitor. I don't know how this can be: although I really felt an urge to kill Skandar, I never cultivated any hatred towards him.”

After a relatively long silence, Pakunoda said, “I know how… We’ve spent our entire childhood together, so I can tell for a fact that you’ve always admired him. For example, you would always get mad at us when we walked on you acting like Skandar.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” Machi confirmed.

“And when Skandar and the other Horsemen did what they did, you realized that you didn’t want to follow in his footsteps anymore. This probably triggered an identity crisis: are you your genuine self, or are you in the shadow of another person? Your subconscious endorsed the view that you weren’t yourself and that the only way for you to achieve freedom was to kill the harmful role-model, Skandar…”

Chrollo reconstituted himself. “Alright, I need to reunite with the vault team. Nobuko must be on her way―if she’s not already there, that is.” Machi explained that Pakunoda and her would be better off checking the servers team too. As they parted to opposite sides of the corridor―Chrollo riding the Melanin Lizard that had survived―a single tear dropped from each of Chrollo’s eyes. _Thanks, Paku…_ This made him think about when he formed the Troupe, _Truly, destiny is never wrong_.

🕸 🕷 🕸

After Chrollo left the fortune teller, he went back to the disaster shelter, grabbed a piece of paper and pen; he enumerated twenty friends and acquaintances that he could think of. The lingering doubt regarded how he could choose eight of them to leave Meteor City with.

Firstly, he tried to think of which ones would be willing to make the sacrifice that he needed to make. _Number one would, number two too. Not number three, though. Number four, I have no idea._ Chrollo realized that the reasoning was a waste of his time. Instead, he focused on the idea that he was the one supposed to make the sacrifice. _Who would help me make this sacrifice, then?_ Futile. He could not choose because he did not know what the sacrifice was. _There’s no way to choose this… Exactly, there really is no way for me to choose this! How’s taking a chance any different from choosing?_ he thought.

Chrollo took a twenty-sided dice and rolled it eight times. _Nobunaga, Feitan, Machi, Phinks, Paku, Franklin, Shal and Uvo it is, then_.

🕸 🕷 🕸

Feitan woke up in his real body in the middle of a large auditorium. He was furious at having been totally outdone by the Horsemen and at Nobuko having abandoned him mid-fight.

One could say that the room was a literal home theater; one could organize an entire play there. Oro hosted regular gatherings at this amphitheater for the pleasure and recognition of the groups which he was part of. 

Bashing through the door, flew Shalnark on **Autopilot Mode** , carrying both Franklin and Drive, as well as followed by Tzede. “Ally reached...” said Shalnark’s phone. “Autopilot off...”

“Ouch!” Shalnark removed the antenna from him. “That’s gonna hurt for the next few days.” Feitan asked the other Troupe members why they were not at the server room, and Shalnark explained what had happened.

“Want me defeat her!?” Feitan exclaimed―he shouted more with his widened eyes than with his voice per say.

The clack of Tzede’s heels with the floor echoed perfectly due to the acoustics of the theater. Each step sounded like the most partial of judges striking their hammer without ever listening to a single word from the defendant. At that moment, it was impossible to ignore the perpetuation of the corrupt Judiciary that shielded privileges in an unequal society. Her aura gave the impression that, no matter how hard they fought against the system, the Sword of Justice would always mercilessly return it. Such was the power of the strongest Horseman.

With Tzede right there, her judge gavel at hand, her scales and her sound block floating near her, it was all or nothing. The most mysterious yet eye-catching element in the room was her scales, which had, on one side, a weight that outbalanced what looked like a gleaming agglomerate of aura on the other side.

Feitan instantly slid right before her―was not the moment so intense, even Tzede could have praised him for his outstanding speed. The Troupe member concentrated a **Ko** on his hand and punched her. Tzede’s sound block flew in front of her and she smacked it with her hammer. Shiny hexagonal shells appeared between the two fighters, completely nullifying the effect of Feitan’s attack.

“There it is. She’s done the same thing again!” Drive said. Simultaneously, the outweighed plate of her scales lower a bit more. In fact, it was almost balanced with the other plate. Feitan did not let her get the best of him with that trick, though. He faked going to her right and prepared another **Ko** on his fist, but actually went right and tried kicking her with a **Ko** , instead. Too slow this time: Tzede effortlessly evaded the blow. Drive commented again, “Feitan got a nice head start with his first attack, but he’s still warming up; he’s no match for her yet.”

When Feitan went for a third attack, Tzede struck her hammer at the floating sound block again. This time, however, the Troupe member faced an outburst of aura that propelled him away from her. Upon such action, the gleaming side of Tzede’s scales retracted to being much more out weighted again.

“It’s no use. My calculations show that Feitan will die,” insisted Drive.

“No, Drive,” said Franklin, “Shalnark’s phone may have been spot on! Didn’t you see how easily Tzede could have stopped Feitan’s second attack, but rather opted to dodge it? That was because her scales were almost balanced…” Meanwhile, Feitan was being beat to dust.

“Oh, I get what you mean, Franklin,” Shalnark said. “She can’t let the gleaming plate outbalance the plate with the weight. While the gleam must represent the aura she’s nullified, the weight must represent some sort of limit, or even her own storage of aura.”

“You two must be right. Wow, an ability like that is an extremely dangerous double-sided knife to handle. She must have imposed a hideous payback for surpassing that limit given she’s so powerful.” Although intrigued, Drive said, “Still, I have nothing stored in my memory that informs me we can output enough aura at once to force her over the limit.”

“Not us, but he can,” said Franklin, pointing at Feitan.

While the three strategized between themselves, Tzede was proving her might to Feitan. As Feitan’s clothes were ripped to shreds with one of her blasts, revealing his twelve-legged spider tattoo, Tzede said, “How decadent. Did you make this tattoo just because your gang calls themselves the Spider?”

Feitan started cursing at her. “Every member of Phantom Troupe has twelve-legged spider tattoo that shows loyalty to cause.” When he thought he could not get more frustrated, he was met with regards such as ‘just finish this already, Feitan’ and ‘it seems like Shal’s phone chose the wrong member’ and ‘we better get ready because he’s done for’ from his fellow Troupe members. Feitan saw a surge on his aura.

“Drive, this is where we get out,” anxiously warned Franklin. The three ran for their lives―literally. Midway through the corridor, they found Pakunoda and Machi and recommended that they too escape the manor.

Feitan’s **Ren** towards Tzede was so great that she could barely move a finger. The storm of pressure suddenly dropped with Feitan having conjured a thick red and white armor. “ **Pain Packer**! Now I return you the pain. Feel the heat… **Rising Sun**!” Tzede’s sound block moved before her and she struck it with all her forces.


	13. Break × a × leg!

On his way to the garden exit of the manor, Chrollo and the lizard bumped into three bodyguards that were escorting Oro’s wife. “Oh, I thought Feitan and Nobuko had already taken you hostage.”

Oro was surveying the landing of the airship at the pilot’s cabin when his cell phone rang. The screen showed his wife calling. “Honey, are you home yet?”

“No, honey, this man has just killed the bodyguards you ordered to bring me here and now he wants to negotiate with you,” said his wife, gasping.

The anger brought upon Oro exaggerated the wrinkles that time had already put on his face. “Put him on the line…” Chrollo took Oro’s wife’s cell phone. “What do you want? It’s about my money, isn’t it? You’ve killed the racers, the pegasi, my daughter, destroyed the wedding; all this because you want my money, am I right?” A guard entered the room to inform Oro that the SWAT would arrive at the vault in fifteen minutes.

“No, I don’t want to have your money. It’s more like I don’t want you to have your money.”

Oro became more aggressive. “Is this Chrollo? Actually, it doesn't matter. You’re gonna ask me to choose between my wife or my fortune. I know your type. Well, you can keep the money so let go of my wife.”

“What a wholesome answer. Alright, if that’s what you want, she’ll be waiting for you in the corridor that leads to the exposition room.” The two ended the call―Oro believing that the Horsemen and the SWAT would take care of the bandits, while Chrollo headed for the garden, leaving behind the wife’s corpse. _You never had a choice to make, Oro. It was all set from the beginning_ , thought Chrollo.

Before he definitely left, the Troupe leader tested **Order Stamp** on the forehead of one of the bodyguards. Seeing that the mark from the ability had not stayed on the corpse, he thought, _Intriguing. Skandar didn’t see corpses as puppets but replicas of corpses, yes. I’ll need Kortopi’s help, then_.

As Chrollo arrived at the private garden, he saw Silva getting up from what was his final attack on Nobuko. “Get away from her!” said the Troupe leader, to whom Silva responded that she was already dead. At the puppetmaster’s command, the Melanin Lizard jumped at Silva. Silva went towards the attacker and leaped for a claw slash. Knowing every vulnerable point of the breed, the assassin came out intact, while the reptile fell dead. Chrollo, however, was already on Silva’s tail and struck a charged blow. Silva defended with his aura-protected forearm and pushed the Troupe leader with a concentrated emission of aura.

“The mark on the lizard’s forehead… That ability doesn’t originally belong to you,” Silva said.

 _How keen of you_ , thought Chrollo, _Indeed, I took a risk and it paid off. In his last moments, Skandar’s emotions towards me bursted at the seams, and, due to his post-mortem Nen, I was really able to keep_ **_Order Stamp_** _, just like what happened with_ **_The Sun and Moon_**.

“Anyway, I’m not here to fight you, kid.” Chrollo countered that statement with a quick, though somewhat intense exchange of attack, lingering Silva’s stay. ‘Quick’ because, soon enough, the manor began quaking intensively, and the assassin used such distraction to mount on his dragon and fly away. In the end, Chrollo let him go, thinking that they would meet again in the future. It was when Machi, Pakunoda, Shalnark, Drive and Franklin came all running out of the manor. The mansion imploded.

Eventually, Feitan too dug his way out of the pile of debris. He sighted the others surrounding the body of their late member and joined them. “We have to talk later. I might have a way to track who hired the assassin,” Shalnark whispered to Machi.

“Hey!” shouted Uvogin, waving at a distance and coming towards them with Nobunaga. “Oi!” The brute slipped. “Who put this here?”

Nobunaga opened the sack on which Uvogin had tripped. “Ugh… The head of a horse!” He was about to throw it away.

“Stop! That’s Perseus’ head. We need to use it as the biological token,” Pakunoda said. “On her way to the vault, Nobuko must have brought it up to here, where she was ambushed by the assassin Chrollo mentioned.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice the corpse was Nobuko’s…” Uvogin said. “Where’s the assassin? They’ll pay for what they’ve done!”

“Don’t waste your breath, Uvo. He’s already long gone,” argued Chrollo.

“Boss, I don’t want to spoil the moment, but we saw, on our way from the stalls, SWAT helicopters heading to the château’s main building―probably to the vault,” Nobunaga said.

“The SWAT was to be expected. Nonetheless, you’re right, Nobunaga. We’ve gotta hurry to the vault.”

The entire Phantom Troupe reunited at the vault; well, twelve-thirteenth of them in reality. “Boss, you’re finally back!" Phinks said. "Did you bring the keycard? There’s just the vault left to be opened.”

“What’s up with so many industrial fans?” Machi asked, but the vault team ignored her.

Drive used **Malware Attack** to force the lock to expose the keycard receiver. Chrollo dropped some blood from the pegasus’ head onto the detector, and the receiver retreated back. “Examining sample,” said the robotic voice coming from the speaker. “Examination completed… Sample result: valid… Unlocking vault.” Finally, four Horsemen later, the vault was opened before their eyes.

The sound of zip lines and steps filled the underground level: the SWAT had arrived. The words ‘freeze’, ‘SWAT’, 'hands up’, ‘hands where I can see ‘em’ could barely be discernible, given that they were repeated so many times, and that the lobby produced a lot of echo. “Machi,” Chrollo said.

Some thirty minutes later, the Troupe was being scouted out of the château’s main building by the SWAT team. Guns were pointed at all the members, who, without exception, had their hands cuffed behind their heads. The numerous agents transported bags and rolling stretchers for the corpses of the deceased at the underground level. Everyone and everything was being put in the SWAT vehicles. As Uvogin resisted going inside a van, one of the agents poked their rifle on his back. Oro was there too, pleasantly enjoying the show. He looked at Chrollo and said, “I’ll make sure my lawyers get something worse than a life imprisonment for you and your gang.” They force Chrollo into another van.

“Sir,” an agent carrying a rolling stretcher called for Oro, “we regret to inform you that we’ve found your wife dead at your manor.” Oro looked back, but Chrollo’s van had already departed. The magnate fell to his knees and started punching the ground in disgust.

“Wait, agent, let me see what you’re transporting,” said a bearded man wearing a cow spot-inspired costume. He lifted the cover of the stretcher and saw the body of a young lady, tattoos and blood all over. _Poor thing_ , he thought.

An agent came to the man and said, “Special officer Mizaistom Nana, that’s Oro, sir!”

“The one curled on the ground?” asked Mizaistom, whom the woman certified. The officer walked to the magnate. “Hello, Mr. Oro, I’m special officer Nana, the one in charge of the case. You went through a lot today, sir. Book a hotel and rest well. The police will open the case immediately but will give you forty-eight hours before asking for your testimony.”

By the morning, news channels around the world announced:

_Today at dawn, a group of criminals invaded the estate of Kega Oro, the sky-jockeying magnate, at Ascott. The special forces arrested the robbers in the act of looting the gambling house’s vault. The police suspect that they knew about Oro’s daughter’s wedding and used the occasion as a moment of fragility on the security. There were many casualties, amongst which Oro’s wife and daughter._


	14. A × genuine × reputation

It was high noon. Two days after the heist had taken place, the police were investigating the case. 

_Yesterday, we reported an attempted robbery at the private estate of the sky-jockeying magnate Kega Oro. Today, however, the police revealed that the contents of the vault, which were previously thought to be untouched, completely vanished overnight. The thieves also disappeared when they were being taken to the penitentiary. The bureaus of investigation are still working on the case._

“Vanished the next night, huh?” Mizaistom, who was watching the news channel, turned the TV off.

A youthful woman came through the door of the office and said, “Special officer Mizaistom Nana, sir!”

“Come on in,” said the Ox. “Updates on the Ascott case?”

“Yes, sir. Do you remember Kakuji Inagawa? He was the witness at the sky-gala who informed us the umbrella and the sword found at the salon of the airship were from one of the culprits.”

“What about him?”

“The family reported his death by the morning. They allege they were at the funeral of Inagawa’s son and the son’s fiancée, both killed at the château, when supposedly a blond man and a pink-haired woman executed him in front of the others and escaped. Do you think this might relate to Ascott?”

“Too soon to say for sure… Anyway, what else? I heard the field agents were interrogating the château’s vigilance personnel. It’s possible that the thieves hacked the security system since the cameras lost all the footage.”

“Alright, what else…” said the apprentice, as she checked on her folder. “Oh, the pendrive! A guard used his phone to record a video of himself at the CCTV room, and it’s said to be possible to observe the image from some of the château’s cameras behind him.” She went on to explain that the guard worked at the CCTV and was afraid that he was going to die, so he sent a video to his family.

They played the recording that was on the pendrive. “Wow, this is gold,” Mizaistom said. The apprentice asked if the figures on the cameras behind the guard were the SWAT agents. She said it looked like they were flying. “Yes. Did you know you can use **Gyo** to identify concealed aura even through photos and videos? Try doing it and tell me what you see while I replay that part.”

The apprentice focused her aura on the eyes. “Now, I can see lines on the recording of the cameras. Wait, the agents are being hanged to the ceiling!”

“Yes, by which body part?”

“The neck! They are hanged by the neck! Do you think that’s how the thieves killed the agents that were found dead at the underground level?”

“No, I think that’s how the thieves killed _all_ the agents. Take a look at this mission report.” The Ox handed his confused apprentice the report. “Page nine: it states that seventy soldier were allocated to the estate, fifty-three of whom ambushed the criminals underground. Now, page fourteen: amongst all the corpses that were found underground, how many were SWAT agents specifically?”

“Fifty… Three,” stuttered the apprentice. “Are you implying the guards that took the thieves away were not the SWAT agents? Do you think Nen-abilities are involved!?” Funnily, she recomposed herself to try to look less shocked and rather more professional. “I mean, it’s totally plausible, sir. Above all, after seeing the video footage. Maybe a manipulator?” The special officer let out a slight chuckle.

“It doesn’t stop there. I think we can understand some of the conditions on their **Hatsu** ,” Mizaistom said. “Let’s go to the evidence lab. I brought some interesting pieces from the scene for you to learn.”

They left Mizaistom’s office and got on an elevator. The Ox said, “You might be thinking that it would be difficult for a manipulator to control that many targets in order to fake a whole team of agents.”

“That was gonna be my next question!” said the apprentice. It definitely was not.

“Your common manipulator wouldn’t necessarily kill their target to activate their ability. Much the contrary: if their target died, they would need to look for another one,” Mizaistom said. “But against all odds, I strongly believe we have a case of an ability whose manipulative capacities were amplified by the condition of only being able to control inanimate things.” They exited the elevator and went to the lab. There, the apprentice got surprised by a giant reptile and a man, laying each on separate medical platforms for examination. “This is a Melanin Lizard. It’s an extremely rare species. Now, what do rich people like to do with rare animals?”

“Eat them? Oh, hunt them!”

“Exactly.” The Hunter looked content. “And when they kill those rare animals, they order an artist’s rendition of the animal to conserve the memory of the achievement. I’m sure you’re sensing traces of aura from this replica, right?”

“Yes, especially from the head,” said the apprentice.

“Perfect! Take a look at its forehead. There should be an evident mark.”

“I see it. Looks like it was stamped, actually.”

“Now, tell me what you feel from the corpse of the guard.”

“There are traces of the same aura. Although I feel it coming mostly from the forehead too, I see no mark. Oh, the corpse was alive before, as opposed to the replica, which never was!”

“And the mark," Mizaistom argued, "is probably an indicator that the ability worked on one but not on the other. The user must have tried to manipulate the guard but couldn’t in the end.”

The apprentice stopped to reflect for a moment. “Still, I don’t get how they would get replicas of the SWAT agents to control.”

“This might be a stretch, but a user extremely skilled in conjuration would be able to duplicate all the dead bodies. You have that photograph of the underground level from the night of the heist, don’t you?”

“I have. Gimme a sec.” The apprentice took the photo from her folder.

“This might be an observation too meticulous for a beginner… Can you notice something off in this picture?” Indeed, she could not notice anything strange. “Why would the ventilation apparatus be on the ground and lined like that? There’s apparently no reason. However, the police found the body of a man wearing a gas mask underground. This could mean that the robbers had to fight against a user of poisonous smoke, and that their skilled conjurer―the one we’re conjecturing about―replicated the fans to direct the gas out of the underground.”

“How can you be so certain, special officer, sir?” the apprentice asked.

“You see, at the same time, realistically speaking, even such an outstanding conjuration ability must have some form of hindrance. Given that the fans reportedly disappeared last night, I believe that said hindrance is a lifespan for the replicas; twenty-four hours to be exact.”

“So the money that the police found in the vault was a replica too!?”

“You get my point,” said Mizaistom.

 _Wow, so this is the caliber of a Double-Star Crime Hunter…_ thought the apprentice. “I guess this is the part where I say ‘but how did they get away with the real money?’, isn’t it?”

“Ah, yes, there’s that too! Do we agree that the fifty-three SWAT agents were duplicated and manipulated?”

“Yes, sir.”

“After the SWAT left with the criminals, I went to the entrance of the vault, which seemed ‘untouched’, like the media said. Despite the fact that the agents escorting the criminals moved around bags, and rolling stretchers covered with cloth, all the corpses were still underground. Yep, I’m saying that they transported the money right under our nose…”

Amazed by Mizaistom’s deduction, the apprentice omitted any reaction. She asked if the court would accept the explanation, to which the Hunter responded that there was nothing they could do about it since they could not locate any of the culprits. Naively hopeful, the apprentice informed of, in fact, two more people that the special officer could talk to: Oro himself and a survivor of the collapse of the manor.

“I tried talking to Oro in the morning, but it’s no use; the old man’s gone bonkers after tragically losing the family _and_ unexpectedly losing the fortune,” said the Ox, excluding the first possibility.

“Really? I’ve only seen people that suffered from shock in series or movies.”

“Well, he wouldn’t wash his hands without blowing bubbles through a hole in one of them… Please, let’s move to the other one.”

The two headed to a hospital, where a nurse guided Mizaistom to the victim’s room. The Hunter introduced himself and explained what topic he would be discussing with the patient. Beep, beep, beep… Mizaistom noted their slow vital signals. “I’m terribly sorry for what the criminals did to you, miss, but would you mind telling me what you remember about them?”

“They are a… Group of… Thirteen…” said Tzede. She did not look burnt, though; she had nullified Feitan’s ability, but ended up going over her limit. Her current state was exclusively the result of not having abode to her own conditions. “Every member of the… Phantom Troupe has… A twelve-legged… Spider tattoo that…” The Horseman did not continue.

 _Phantom Troupe, huh? They are quite the loud ghosts_ , the Hunter thought, as he wrote down the details. “Can you describe any member? Name them, maybe?” Silence. A long beep prolonged itself in the room.

Back in the car, Mizaistom’s apprentice asked him, “So, are we closing the case as is, sir?”

“Yes, but, before that, I’d like you to register the information that the patient told me at the Hunter’s Tavern,” said the Ox, handing his notes to the apprentice on the passenger’s seat. “Make sure you name the gang ‘Phantom Troupe’ and assign them Class-A Bounty.”

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, ChantiLee again. Thank you so much to everyone who sticked until the end! I hope that you enjoyed the ride, the original characters, the interpretation of existing characters... Feel free to comment on any of the chapters and leave kudos. I would appreciate if you could share this story with any friend who likes Hunter × Hunter, for non-romantic fanfic such as this one are not as widely spread around here.
> 
> This was my first time writing a fanfic. I had a blast and want to do it again in the future. Not to mention it was a way of satisfy my appetite for more Hunter × Hunter content (I hope it satisfied yours too). Poor Togashi... Let's hope he gets better and continues the series.


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